Title: Stalked - Chapter 8

Disclaimer: They're not mine any more then they are yours. I just wanted to play with them, and plan on having them back before the summer hiatus is up - maybe a little dirty, but in good shape non the less.

Author's Note: I did my part in getting another chapter up. You know what that means! Time to review. :o) Oh and thanks again to Sol, for putting up with my fragmented sentences and my overuse of the words 'just, that, and the'. Not to mention my tendancy to make up words. :o) and the '...' that I seem so fond of. lol. Thanks a million. Please enjoy this chapter!

Nity walked up the sidewalk to his door. It had been a long day, but it was going to be an even longer night. He unlocked the deadbolts and stepped inside. Shutting the door softly behind him, he reached out and flipped on the overhead lights. Pushing his brows together to form a scowl, he walked into the kitchen and stopped, resting his hands on the countertop.

He'd decided earlier that afternoon to give Sara one chance to survive. He shook his head. It wasn't really her chance; she had nothing to do with it. He was giving the chance to Grissom. Sara loved him, trusted him. Would she trust him to save her?

All those years ago when Natasha was still his, he'd trusted her. He assumed they were in love, a real love, the kind with no secrets and no lies. Turns out, she was lying and keeping the biggest secret of all. When he'd come home that morning and found her in bed with his friend, he'd snapped, but still he'd given her a chance to say she was sorry. To explain, to do something.

FLASHBACK

It'd been a long day, Nity had worked one and a half shifts at the diner, and Sara Sidle hadn't been in even once. He laughed at his own childish thought as he unlocked the door to his father's house. It wasn't like she was in a relationship with him. Hell, he'd be shocked senseless if she even remembered his face. But she had somehow become the object of his fantasies.

But for tonight, it was ok with him that he hadn't seen her. Instead of the sixteen-hour day he'd expected to work, he had pulled only twelve, getting out four hours early. If she came in ten minutes after he left? Eh, he could be ok with that, after all; he had his own little piece at home.

When he'd met Natasha, she had reminded him so much of Sara. The way she walked, the lightness of her accent, she even sort of looked like her. The only difference was that Tasha had asked him out. And he'd accepted. If he couldn't have Sara, what could be better then her doppelganger?

They'd been dating for a while now, and he really liked her. Not just for what she had in common with Sara, but also for what she didn't. He'd been thinking a lot lately about marriage – even if it would mean having to give up his obsession with Miss Sidle. But then, why would he need to keep it, if he had the next best thing waiting for him at home every night?

He was whistling a tune he didn't know he knew as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom. He couldn't wait to get out of this uniform and crawl into bed with Tasha. She'd been spending the night at his place a lot lately, and neither one of them really wanted to put that on hold while his house was fumigated, so she spent the night here; in his father's house, with him.

She said she had to work late tonight, but so did he, so he gave her a key and told her to wait for him, that he couldn't wait to see her. He was hoping to surprise her by getting home so early.

Turns out, she surprised him.

He didn't hear the sounds until it was too late to miss them. His hand had already gripped the knob and turned, his arm already pushing the door open as he heard his girlfriend gasp his best friend's name. At that, he stopped dead in his tracks, the strip of light from the hallway illuminating the bed just enough to make out Brian's frame as he hovered over Nity's girlfriend. Nity's eyes moved from that sight to the clothes over the floor and the candles lit on the nightstand.

At first he couldn't speak. Not until Natasha looked at him and laughed. Damn. The girl actually thought this was funny. "What the hell!" It was actually the only coherent thing he could say. But unfortunately for Natasha, it just added to her laughter.

Two quick strides in the room, and he had his hands around Brian's neck; squeezing with all the strength he could find. Tears slipped fast down his cheeks and he knew he was growling; muttering under his breath, but even he wasn't sure of what he was saying.

When Brian' eyes fluttered closed and he went limp in Nity's hands, he was thrown to the side like a rag doll. Nity had never considered himself to be strong, but apparently anger empowered him.

"What the hell did you do Nity?" Natasha's voice was shrill in his ears and Nity could feel the anger bubbling up again.

"You stupid little bitch. Why did you have to ruin such a good thing? I…" He stuttered. "I loved you!"

Fear shone crystal clear in her dark brown eyes. "Nity…" Then she found her strength, part of the reason he loved her. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? You're supposed to be working for the next few hours! You're not even supposed to be here!"

That just angered him more. "Oh, but I am." One fluid movement and he was covering her hips with his own, holding her to the mattress. "And that's all that matters." His fingers slid around her neck and he laughed the laugh of a crazy man, but that was ok – in this moment, he felt crazy. "Say you're sorry."

"What? No, Nity listen…stop." At the word 'no' his fingers had tightened.

"I loved you so much Natasha. But you know what?"

Her eyes blinked rapidly and her lips moved though no sound came out. It was hard to make a noise when you couldn't get air to pass over your vocal cords.

"It doesn't matter if I loved you. Because I know someone better. She's you. You're her. Interchangeable." He sneered. "I don't need a copy like you, when I can have the real thing."

In one final attempt to get away, she lashed out with one hand, succeeding in only knocking the burning candle from its place on the nightstand. One minute later, and the once small flame had engulfed her skirt on the floor next to the bed. Thirty more seconds and he could feel the heat as it traveled up the comforter. He met her eyes one last time as they rolled up into her head and she passed out.

Instead of putting out the ever-growing flame, he ran. He'd grabbed his keys and was out the door before he knew what he was doing. He was halfway down the street before he realized he was driving.

END FLASHBACK

He was still standing in the kitchen gripping the cracked countertop. After that night, he'd left Vegas for a while. He'd read the papers, watched the news, and knew they assumed he was Brian – assumed he was dead. The fire was an accident, the papers said. Started by a candle. Three deaths ruled accidents. His obituary in the paper, Brian buried in his place. That was ok anyway. Brian didn't have any family, and as far as Nity knew, he was the only person that would miss him.

Eventually he returned to Las Vegas, he couldn't help himself for wanting to return to his home. To return to her. A total change in wardrobe, a darker shade of hair, a beard and moustache, contact lenses, and the 35 lbs he'd lost off his frame in the time he'd been gone; not a single person recognized him.

He'd had to work odd jobs. He was always paid cash, and was never asked for ID. This is Vegas. Jobs that kept you off the government's radar were surprisingly easy to come by. He'd started renting this house – again cash on the first of every month, and his 'landlord' never asked questions.

When he realized the things he was going to need for holding Sara, he'd panicked. Even in the shadiest of neighborhoods, people looked at you funny for ordering steel poles and chains. So he'd gone online, and had been dismayed to find every site stating "Credit Cards Only." Two weeks later he'd found a not-so-big bank that had given him a card without running a background check. They must not have, or they would know he was supposed to be dead.

He laughed every time he thought about how easy it was to exist while he was dead. There was always someone willing to look the other way, always someone wanting to help him, just because he knew how to play the part. It was an amazing feeling knowing how much power he really had.

But that was the past, this was the present. And something told him that it wasn't going to be so easy this time. When that DMV guy had come knocking on his door, and then asked for him; the old him, the one he hadn't been in years, Nity had freaked out just a little. He was still fighting the desire to just abandon ship. But he knew that within twenty-four hours, he'd be long gone anyways. Without Sara...there was nothing holding him to Las Vegas any longer. And he figured that he should at least give this Dr. Grissom a chance to know how much she loved him. Even if he didn't love her back, and even if he couldn't save her.

Sara sat in the rocking chair thinking to herself, mainly about the nail in her pocket, and about the phone in his. The nail was too small to be used as an adequate weapon; even if she somehow managed to get him in the neck it still wouldn't do much damage. Besides, she twirled it between her fingers, it was old and the end was almost dulled down to nothing.

She fought the urge to throw it across the room, it could still be helpful; could still be worth something. She really didn't know what, but she wasn't going to lose her temper and give it up unless she was sure.

She stood up too quickly as she heard the locks open at the top of the stairs, and her ribs protested loudly. She slipped the nail back into her pocket as Nity thundered down the stairs. He looked - excited. That worried her, and she cocked her head at him.

"Ah Sara, won't you play a game with me?" He grinned. As he met her eyes she saw something else there. Pity? No, that wasn't quite it.

"What kind of game?" She had her guard up already.

"The kind that involves a damsel in distress and your knight in shining armor, of course."

"And what's involved in this 'game' of yours?"

The smile left his face. "You either die or you go home."

Sara swallowed fast. What was going on? "Well, I'd like to go home...you know, as opposed to dying." She was surprised at the lack of fear in her voice.

"Well, that decision has nothing to do with me. I'm afraid I won't be playing your hero this time." He hung his head. "I'll be playing the part of the villain."

Sara sat down in the chair. "And what if I don't want to play?"

"Sweet Sara. I'm thinking that my time in Vegas is coming to an end. And as much as I would love to take you with me, I just don't see how that will work. So instead, we're going to play a game with Dr. Grissom."

At Grissom's name Sara snapped eyes off the floor and glared at Nity. "You're not going to hurt him."

He laughed. "Not physically. But what do you think it's going to do to him when he gets here - and you're gone?"

"He's coming?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Well, if not him, then someone's coming. It didn't register at first, this morning when someone came to my door - but they messed up. They asked for the me who used to be, not the me I am now. And when they get here, I'll make sure Grissom gets the message. In fact," He looked down at his wrist though there was no watch. "We should probably be going. I was quite relieved they hadn't gotten here before I got back." He stepped forward and pulled the gun from his waistband, and a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.

Smiling, he first locked one cuff to himself and the other to her, before bending and unlocking the one around her ankle. "I'm sorry for this." He met her eyes and she really did see sorrow there. She was going to speak when she felt the blade of a knife pierce the tender flesh of her thigh.

"Dammit!" She swore out loud. "What the hell was that for?"

He pointed to the blood falling to the floor. "It's your DNA - and it'll get your friends all riled up." He smiled again at the thought. "And one more thing." He dropped a piece of paper on top of the bed. "Now, lets go."

Sara glanced down at the paper as it fluttered to the bed. Grissom's name was scrawled across the top and her heart dropped. She didn't want to get him involved, and leaving his name at the scene - her scene - was a sure way to make him play along with whatever little game Nity had up his sleeve. "Why are you doing this?"

He started to the stairs and she had no choice but to follow. "Because I don't want to be the one who lets you down dear Sara. When he fails to save you, it'll be him who dreams of you. It'll be him who wakes in a cold sweat - because he didn't love you enough to save you. I'll give him a chance to get you out alive. It won't be my fault when he fails."

She didn't remind him who had brought her here, didn't tell him that it would still be his fault; that if she died Grissom wouldn't just dream about her. He would spend the rest of his life hunting the man who killed her.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Sara pulled herself to a stop, causing Nity to wince when the cuff cut into his wrist. "What Sara? Didn't I tell you we were in a hurry?"

She hung her head. "I have to use the bathroom." She glanced up at him. He was looking at her thoughtfully. "It'll just take a minute."

He sighed. "Fine." Leading her to the bathroom door he unlocked the cuff around her wrist.

She walked into the room and shut the door securely behind her. Looking around in a panic, she grabbed the bottle of soap off the edge of the bathtub. Watching the door closely she dabbed a small amount on her index finger. Leaning over the sink, she wrote:

It's a game.

A Trap.

Don't Play.

He won't hurt me.

As the smears dried, it was hardly visible. Good. Her team would find it. She knew they would. She flushed the toilet and turned on the water to rinse her hands clean before stepping to the door and pulling it open. Nity looked at her with surprise. "You've still got time."

"I told you it would only take a minute." She walked calmly out of the bathroom, hoping he wouldn't notice the mirror.

He didn't even look inside, just snapped the cuff back onto her wrist and led her from the room. Sara swallowed tears of relief.

He stopped in the kitchen and he grabbed a bag of something off the counter. Chuckling softly to himself, he led her from the house. He intertwined their fingers together and held her hand so it wouldn't look suspicious if any of his nosier neighbors happened to be watching out their windows.

Sara hadn't been outside of the house in so long, and the soft breeze that ruffled her hair felt like heaven, giving her courage and strength. She was surprised at how calm she felt as he led her to the car and quite possibly to the place where she would die. She sighed softly to herself as he led her into the garage, sending a quiet plea to whoever would listen that Grissom wouldn't get involved.

Opening the back passenger door he quickly undid the cuff around his own wrist and locked it around the plastic bar above the door. She slid into the car and leaned back against the seat. There wasn't anything she could do in this position. She was stuck again, too far away to reach him as he got behind the wheel and, she discovered as she pulled on the door handle with her free hand, the child safety was engaged on the door. She couldn't have opened it if she wanted to.

He started the car, and for the first time since she arrived, Sara took in the neighborhood around her. The other houses looked as rundown as the one she had just left. Her imagination pictured dirty children with skinned knees and drunken parents sending them outside to play so they wouldn't be witnesses to their drug dealings. That was what this area of Las Vegas said to her. Poverty and Drugs. Cars parked on the curbs, rusty and old. Lawns that had long ago been forgotten about.

It was in areas like this that nobody ever saw anything. Nothing was anyone's business and people knew better then to call the cops. Sara rubbed her hand over her face and closed her eyes. Opening them again some time later, she glanced at the rearview mirror and caught Nity watching her. "Where are we going?"

He smiled a slow smile. "I suppose I could give you the game plan now huh?"

Sara frowned. "I guess."

Moving his eyes back to the road Nity continued. "What's going to happen my dear, is that I'm going to put you in a position of life or death. I don't want to hurt you, so don't you worry about that. It'll be completely painless - or at least quick. It's all set up now, waiting for us to get there. While you were in the bathroom, I set the first part of the game: a wire above the basement door. When they trip it, it'll start a timer. When the timer runs out, you die. It really is that simple." He sighed.

Sara swallowed. "How long?"

"What do you mean?"

"After the timer is triggered? How long until I die?" She heard the fear in her voice now, and it almost relieved her that she could still feel.

"Two hours. Plenty of time." He looked back at her. "And long enough for me to get out of here."

The inside of the car fell silent, and for a long while all Sara heard was the wheels rushing over the road. "How?" She finally asked the question that had been tugging at her mind.

"I thought and thought about that Sara. To be honest, it almost drove me crazy today, trying to figure out how to end your life." She felt the car slow. "Finally I decided that I could just use a bomb. Nice and simple. But like I said, don't worry about it - you'll be gone before you realize it hurts."

Nity turned the car off the road and Sara saw an old building standing in the distance. "Where are we?"

"My grandfather's cabin. Until this morning I hadn't been here in years." As he pulled up to the building Sara shuddered.

He shut off the engine and stepped from the car. Sara tried to pull away as he opened the door and reached for her arm. He just sighed and wrapped his hand around upper arm. "Let's not fight ok? This is hard enough as it is."

She held still as he unlocked the cuff. In the instant before he could lock it around his own wrist, she threw her body against his, falling from the car to land hard on top of him. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of his lungs, but she didn't falter as she got to her feet and took off down the driveway they'd just driven up.

Her lungs were already complaining, the bruises along her ribs screamed with every step she took, and the throbbing in her thigh growing worse every time that leg hit the ground. She didn't dare look behind her, she could hear him cursing as she ran. Ducking her head and holding her arms tight to her side, she ran like she never had before. But still she knew it wasn't fast enough, her injuries were slowing her down. She could hear him gaining on her - she could feel herself slowing.

She yelped as his hand touched her shoulder. Swinging her arm around she caught him in the face with the open end of the handcuff and felt a surge of strength when he cried out and his hand fell from her shoulder. Still running, never stopping. She couldn't stop. To stop would be to give in. She wasn't giving in again. She had too much to do yet, too much to say. Someone she needed to love.

Her legs were growing weary quickly and her breath was hitching in her throat. Already her tongue was so dry it was sticking to the roof of her mouth. Tears sprung to her eyes as she stepped sideways on a rock and her ankle twisted in an unnatural direction, dramatically slowing her pace. She screamed out loud when he caught her again and knocked her to the ground.

Fighting with a strength it was hard to believe she still possessed, she pushed him off of her and tried in vain to crawl away. He grabbed her around the ankles and pulled her to him over the dry dirt of the Nevada desert. Her bruises burned as new scratches were formed over the top and she could feel smaller cuts covering her hands and arms as she grabbed at the dry soil, trying desperately to stop herself.

She felt his weight over her as he pinned her to the ground and yanked her arm behind her back, successfully getting the cuff locked around his wrist. "Now. Sara." He was out of breath. "Stop already." She was still writhing underneath him, trying to pull away. He grabbed her hair with his free hand and pulled her to her feet along with him. "Sara! I don't want to hurt you! Jeez girl, STOP!" He pulled her towards the cabin.

"No! Nity NO!" She was begging while still trying to pull him in the opposite direction. But again, he was bigger than her, stronger than her, and no matter how hard she pulled away, she found herself getting closer and closer to the front door.

As they reached the door Nity laughed out loud. "Well, that was fun." He pulled her inside and Sara yanked against him at the sight of the bomb sitting on the table. "Now Sara. I don't know why you're so worried. You trust him right? All he has to do is his job. If he finds you, you'll be fine."

Sara remained silent and struggled against him every step he took into the room. Inside she saw it was a one roomed building, a cracked ceiling being held up by four crumbling walls and a large wooden beam in the middle. He dragged her to the center of the room and tied her to the beam before unlocking the cuff around his own wrist, and locking her hands behind her back around the pole.

Rubbing at the swelling bruise that circled his wrist, he frowned at her. "Well. I think you managed to sprain my wrist. Way to go." He turned around and busied himself with the things on the table.

Sara hung her head and slumped against the rough wood. This was the last place she ever thought this would wind up: halfway into the desert in some long forgotten bachelor getaway. She sighed softly and Nity turned around. "Decide to play?"

"Don't have much choice do I?"

He smirked. "No. Not really. Are you ready?"

"For what?"

He held up what could only be described as an amateur's bomb. "To go boom." Walking over to her, he wrapped it around both her and the wood she was leaning on. "I wouldn't struggle too much. If it falls - well, your Grissom might run out of time sooner then I said."

She instantly stilled, knowing he was right.

Smiling, he touched her cheek. "Be a good girl - I'll be right back." He turned and disappeared out the door.

Fighting to remain calm Sara took a few deep breaths. Suddenly this situation was almost funny to her - like something out of a roadrunner cartoon. She was supposed to believe he set this all up in one day? Right. It took money - brains. She knew the bomb was probably real, but the whole tripping wire and the timer? Probably not.

As Nity came back in she swallowed the giggles that were threatening to escape, but was too slow, and he caught one as she tried to cough to cover it up. "What's so funny?"

She rolled her eyes. "Where's the remote? The transmitter? You want me to believe I can survive this... but I won't will I? Grissom has nothing to do with this. There's no way he can trip a wire miles away and trigger the bomb around me."

Nity chuckled. "Ah Sara. You couldn't be more wrong." He grinned. "What do you think I've been doing all day? I've been making sure this works. It is amazing what you can get with a little blackmail, and friends in low places." He pulled a digital clock from the bag and set it on the table across from her.

He stood between her and the clock for a good ten minutes, fiddling with it, during which time the silence was almost stifling. When he finally turned back, the clock was blinking 2:00. "When it hits zero..." His voice was hushed. "Boom."

He started gathering his things back into the bag. "Now, I have a flight to catch." He walked over to Sara and kissed her cheek. "Good luck."

Sara watched with a mixture of terror and surprise as he walked out the door. She had thought he was lying. But the clock was still blinking 2:00.

She couldn't blink; her breaths were coming quick and shallow. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for the moment her death sentence was ruled.

The sounds of crickets chirping outside and the wind howling across the windows did nothing for the already spooky atmosphere around her. Fear was radiating off of her in waves so thick she was sure she was going to drown in it.

Every creak of the old building had her nerves bundled so tight she kept forgetting to breathe. Nothing seemed real. It couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening - not to her. It had to be someone else - this was a scene she thought she'd only see the aftermath of. Just another scene for her to process. A clock with prime surfaces for holding prints. A handcuff with fresh epithelials clinging to its surface. Her mind wandered to her friends searching this room - the last room she might ever be in. She should have taken another few seconds in the bathroom to write goodbye. She drew in a shuddered breath as the clock's numbers dimmed with a strong gust of wind but came on still reading 2:00.

She wasn't sure how long she had been standing there, staring at that clock. But she had never jumped so hard in her life as she did when the numbers flipped and came back on reading 1:59, no warning no sound. A tear slipped down her cheek and she knew...she just knew she was going to die that night.

So I'm not going to beg this time. I just want to say how very much I appreciate all of you who have taken the time to review - It means a lot to me to know you like it. So thanks.